Diplomatic Piracy 2 and a bit: The Worst Pirate
by Twist
Summary: A musical interlude overcomes the crew of Diplomatic Piracy 2. Poor Sam, he really isn't equipped to deal with this sort of thing. Crackfic lulz.


And now, a musical interlude.

(Note: Has no contingency _at all_ to the story, I just got bored and wrote it. Also, I didn't beta it or anything so it's probably rife with spelling errors and bad writing or whatever. Sorry, but I don't care that much lol.)

Disclaimer: Pretty much everything belongs to Pratchett. 'The Worst Pirate Song' is written and performed by Ceann.

--

The Boat rocked, but even that motion felt listless and tired in these flat seas. For three days the black ship and her pirate crew had been stuck at sea, drifting with the currents toward the Edge, but never even catching a puff of breeze. The boredom was wearing on the crew, who had run out of things to do two days ago. Even the captain, Havelock Vetinari, who was seldom bored due to his amazing ability to entertain himself with nothing but a knife and a bottle of rum, was beginning to show the wear of three useless days at sea.

Sam Vimes Jr., an honorary crewmember in the sense that he wasn't killed when he was discovered as a stowaway, sat on the deck and leaned back against the railing. A few feet away his adopted advisor, Bart, was hanging his legs over the side of the Boat, watching disinterestedly as bits of driftwood and the occasional fish went by. The dull murmur of conversation drifted across the deck, but it was all idle chatter, unless it was complaints about the lack of sailing.

"So what year were you in, again?" Bart asked idly. Sam had been daydreaming and hadn't heard the question properly. He gave Bart an apologetic look and shrugged. The pirate rolled his eyes. "At that posh school in the city – what year were you due to be starting?"

"Oh, er, the sixth one," answered Sam. He shrugged. "Last year left before you start freaking out about not dying on your finals."

Bart chuckled. "And you're going to go back to that when all's said and done, are you?"

Sam paused. He hadn't really considered it. "Um, I mean I suppose so. It's not like I would be able to do much else without the degree or with what little schooling I have." He laughed dryly. "So I guess I just bought myself some time before the inevitable pre-finals freaking out."

"They're not that bad," Vetinari volunteered. Sam had thought he was asleep up to that point – he was lounging across the tops of a couple of barrels in the shade cast by the quarter deck, his hat pulled low over his eyes.

"See there?" Bart said, vaguely comfortingly, waving in the captain's direction. "I'm sure they're nothing to be worried about. Probably not even that scary."

Sam offered a lopsided smile. "Hah, right. I'm sure what with all the pirating I've been doing they'll be nothing."

Vetinari snorted and pushed his hat up. He had that expression that not only insinuated he thought you were probably mentally retarded but also that you'd just said something stupid enough to actually merit some kind of remark on it. "You think you've been doing a bit of pirating then, have you?"

Sam paused and turned to Bart, unsure of how to answer. It didn't help that Bart was also smirking. "Er, haven't I?"

Josiah approached from behind and stood over Sam, grinning widely, hands on his hips. "So you think you're a pirate, eh lad? Just because you've been at sea aboard a pirating vessel for what, a couple of months now?"

"Um."

"Boy, yer what we in the business call a 'girl,'" he explained, grabbing Sam by the collar of his vest and hauling him to his feet.

"But I'm not a girl," Sam said, feeling as though he ought to defend himself at least a little bit. "And anyway, I've been doing a lot of things around this ship that are sort of pirate-like. I mean, it's a pirate ship, isn't it?"

Bart and Vetinari winced. "And now he's going to get going," Vetinari sighed, taking a swig of rum. "Good work Sam, you get to clean the hull for the next billion years of existence."

Josiah drew himself up and prodded Sam in the chest. Whatever Sam had been expecting, it certainly wasn't this. He was even less prepared when Josiah started to sing. "If you're a pirate, I don't believe it – I don't believe that you are capable of such deeds!"

Sam shrank back. "Uh, sorry?" Somewhere from what seemed like an eternity away, Vetinari remarked "And we're singing today, just fabulous! Another billion years for you, then, Sam."

Drumknott appeared at Josiah's side and held out a hand imperiously. "If you're a pirate," he continued, singing perfectly in line with what Josiah had begun, "let's see your wallet. And then we'll see if you are licensed for the seas."

"I'm not," Sam muttered, backing into the railing. He pointed a finger at Vetinari. "But I rather doubt he's licensed as well!" He felt a hand clap on his shoulder and looked over, relieved to see Bart there. Hopefully he would put an end to this madness. Sam could only watch in horror, however, as he too continued on with the song.

"Are you capable of storming from the riggings of a ship?"

"No!"

"Or wearing a black do-rag when it really ain't that hip?" Sam's hand flew up to his head, which was tragically do-ragless.

"I don't think so, I don't think so at all," Josiah sang on.

"So where's your eye patch?" sang Creepins, the resident one-eyed crewmember.

"Where's you peg leg?" Bart asked, ribbing Sam.

"If you're a pirate, where's your knife?" Drumknott challenged.

The oldest crewmember, Spalding, hobbled forward and totally uncharacteristically joined in with "Where's your booty?"

"Beg pardon!" Sam yelped, almost falling over the railing in his efforts to get away from the apparently crazy crew.

"Sassy parrot!" screeched the blue and green macaw that had taken up residence in the riggings of the Boat when they came upon it lost at sea.

"I can't picture you and a bottle of cheap rum," Vetinari contributed, though dryly and without much sense of the tune.

And now the whole crew was singing, except for Vetinari, who was drinking. Sam hit the deck out of sheer terror. "'Cause you're the worst pirate! The worst pirate in the world!"

"The worst pirate, worst pirate in the world," Spalding cackled.

"'Cause you're a girl," sang Josiah. "So little Sammy, just put your sword down. I'm not a fool -"

"And I'm not amused," Vetinari added.

Bart hauled Sam back to his feet and pushed him toward Creepins, who went on "You've got no hook hand, no secret island and pirates never wander around port in twos."

Josiah grabbed him. "So if this isn't some sort of cheap prank, then tell me who exactly walks your plank, not me."

"Not me," Drumknott continued almost as soon as Josiah had finished.

"No' me!"

"Never!"

"Not me!" cackled Spalding. "So then where's your eye patch?"

"I've got both eyes!" Sam pleaded. "Let me go!"

"Where's your peg leg?"

"Sam you're a pirate," Bart laughed, "so where's you're knife? Or where's your booty?"

"Sassy parrot!" the damnable bird squawked.

"I can't picture you on a bottle of cheap rum," Vetinari added, apparently realizing that he was obligated to make some sort of contribution to what was clearly a team effort in a game of Haze the New Guy.

"'Cause you're the worst pirate, the worst pirate in the world!" Creepins snickered.

"The worst pirate in the whole entire world!" Drumknott added.

"'Cause you're a girl!" Josiah exclaimed, in perfect tune. A slight breeze ruffled Sam's hair, but everyone else was too busy singing to notice. Except maybe Vetinari, who had sat up a little straighter and was watching the sails.

Josiah slung his arm around Sam's shoulders and made a sweeping gesture, indicating the surface of the entire Boat. "A pirate vessel is not a bedroom. There's no clothes closets –"

"There's no bidet," Creepins added, in a burst of creepiness that Sam rather suspected was behind his name.

"There's no pink loofahs," Drumknott said sternly, "because there's no showers."

Bart chimed in "And pirates don't worry about what shoes they wear each day!"

"Well everyone knows that pirates just wear black," Vetinari remarked, taking a swig of rum, still not really singing, thank Gods. Sam rather suspected the world would end if he did.

"And there's a flag with skull and bones when we attack, not grass and dragons," Drumknott went on, having the indecency to bring Sam's family crest into the whole thing. Sam rather wished he could melt into the floorboards and make this whole embarrassing affair go away.

"Not grass and dragons, no way," Bart sang firmly. "So where's your eye patch?"

"And your peg leg!" Spalding waved a mop around a little madly.

"If you're a pirate, where the hell's your knife?" Drumknott demanded, eyeing Sam's vest up and down. "Or even some booty?"

"Sassy parrot!"

"I'm going to cut off that bloody bird's head," Vetinari grumbled, totally missing his cue to say something about rum.

"Cause you're the worst pirate! The worst pirate in the world!" the crew sang, swaying vaguely back and forth. "The worst pirate across the whole entire world! 'Cause you're a girl."

Sam yelped as someone wrapped a bandana around his head, creating an effective makeshift eyepatch. "So where's your eyepatch?"

"Or your peg leg!" Spalding crowed, kicking Sam hard in the left shin and handing him the mop at the same time, leaving him leaning awkwardly on the thing.

"To be a pirate, you'll need a knife," Josiah added, handing Sam what was most definitely a butter knife, gods knew where he got it.

"And some booty," Bart chuckled, draping Sam with a necklace made of seashells.

"Rawk!" The lifeless and headless body of the parrot tumbled to the deck, falling right at Sam's feet. Someone shoved a bottle into his hands as well, and he tried to juggle the mop and knife around so he wouldn't drop anything.

"Take care of that – it's my next bottle of rum," Vetinari warned from the sidelines, where he'd managed to meander over to. Sam gulped and tried not to think about how ridiculous he looked.

"Gods, you're the worst pirate!" laughed Creepins.

"Worst pirate in the world," Bart sang, nudging Sam in the ribs and winking.

"The worst pirate – worst pirate in the world!" Drumknott decided, though even he was smirking.

"'Cause you're a pirate girl," Josiah finished, patting Sam on the shoulder. Sam, reveling in the silence, prayed to any god that might hear him that the song was over. He was cued that it was when the whole crew burst out laughing, except for Vetinari, who leaned in to grab the rum back. As if on cue, a stiff breeze gusted through the riggings and the sails snapped out.

"All right, fun's over, back to business," Vetinari yelled over everyone. "Chop suey and whatnot, places to go, people to see."

Sam simply stood still, stunned and dumbfounded. Vetinari turned to him. "You look absolutely ridiculous."

"Er, yes sir. I would imagine I do," Sam mumbled, dropping the mop and pulling the bandana off his head. He tucked the knife into his belt. "Sorry."

"Make everyone sing one more time and I will sentence you to horrible, unspeakable punishments."

"Sir?"

Vetinari rolled his eyes. "Listen, I just _said_ they were unspeakable, ipso facto I cannot speak of them. Except that they'll probably involve Creepins." He smirked a little. "Nice necklace, by the way."

"Um."

"Get back to work." And with that, he managed to almost walk a straight line back to the stairs leading to the helm. Sam picked the mop up from where he'd left it on the deck and was about to carry it back to the bucket from whence it came when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Well done," Bart said in his ear. Sam turned, an expression of confusion still on his face.

"Does that happen often?"

"Every new guy," Bart said solemnly. "Josiah loves that rag – uses it on every new kid we get here to see how tough they really are."

"He _sings_ at them?"

Bart shrugged. "What, you weren't freaked out enough by it?"

"Oh no, I was freaked out plenty," Sam said quickly, lest the crew burst into song once more. "It's just kind of a weird thing to do, really."

"It's proved a remarkably reliable barometer for people's temperaments in the past." Bart shrugged. "The last guy before you jumped overboard and tried to swim to the nearest land."

"How far away was that?"

"Miles and miles – we were out near the Brown Islands at the time, I believe, but no land in sight."

"Oh. Wow." Sam paused for a minute. "Did you guys go back for him?"

"Tried. We sent a boat out with a few men in it to try and bring him back but he just swam faster. No helping some people, I guess."

"I guess." Sam idly spun the mop between his hands. "So I was thinking then . . ."

"What about?"

"Unless the proctor for my final bursts into song," Sam said with a wide smirk, "I think I might just be alright."

--

I just wrote this songfic because I couldn't justify 'Cabin Fever' from Muppet Treasure Island. Trufax.

I can has reev-ewes plz nao?


End file.
